Wednesday, April 30, 2008

After 8 days of a brutal stomach virus, I’m considering tattooing this phrase on my sphincter.

(right next to the “If you can read this, you’re too close” one)

About a week and a half ago, my daily schedule changed.

It went from this:

1)Wake up at 5 a.m. and get ready2)Go to work3)Have coffee4)Take my morning poo (induced by #3)5)Work/lunch/work6)Go home

To this:

1)Wake up at 3 a.m due to GURGLING2)Explosively poo the equivalent volume of the Bering Sea3)Keep pooing...mother of God...am I dying?! What is that, a boat?4)Stay up through alarm...wife is mad...I have not sprayed air freshener...wall is stained5)Drive to work VERY quickly so not to poo in car6)WHAT?! MORE POO?!?7)Have coff..8)AAH!! POO!9)Work10)Poo11)Have lunc…POO!! (eat lunch in stall)12)Work. No, no…nevermind…I have to poo again13)Go home quickly. Pull to side of road and poo14)Say “hi” to kids as I rush past them to the bathroom15)Repeat steps 1 – 14.

Ugh.

I have no idea what I ate, or what God I pissed off to cause this.

Regardless, my days were pretty much set to the above schedule.

On the bright side, since I’m a salaried employee, I pretty much got paid to crap all day.

Sweet.

Actually…it was less like crap and more like the contents of Lake Eerie.

Then there’s the down side to all of this.

When your butt is pretty much flushing water out of it’s little brown gate every 15 minutes…

…it begins to feel like you’ve dipped your sphincter in a jar of jalapenos.

(don’t ask me how I know this)

I finally got the courage to make a doctor’s appointment to try to figure out whether or not I was dying, had Crohn’s disease, or was simply itching for someone to examine my cornhole (again).

Instead of my doctor, I got his assistant.

A woman.

Awesome.

Who better to discuss my explosive diarrhea with than a woman?

Maybe I should have her refill my Levitra prescription while I’m here.

Doctor:“Oh…you have an irritable bowel AND a non-functioning penis? Well aren’t you quite the catch!”

Bitch.

Anyway…I can tell she’s embarrassed to talk to me about my continual poo antics, as much as I’m embarrassed to discuss it.

Doctor:“Well…um…how often are you going a day?”

Me (averting her stare):“I like beans.”Doctor:“I know it’s not comfortable to talk about, but I need to know. How many times?”

Me:“I have a degree in architecture. I like steak. The color blue makes me happy.”

(this goes on for ten minutes)

Finally…

Me:“I don’t know…like, 5 or six times?”

Doctor:“Okay. Well…we don’t really consider it chronic until you’re going at least 8 times a day.”

*pause*

Me:“Who the Hell has time for that?”

Seriously.

How do you go to the bathroom 8 f*cking times a day?

What the f*ck are you eating? Elephants?

Doctor:“Well..I think it’s viral…but we should probably get a sample.”

Oh sure, complain about a female medical professional...do you know how many times I've had a male medical professional lay his hands allllll over my body? No one put you in any stirrups and stuck a speculum in you to discuss your poo.

(My husband is a history teacher in case you were wondering.)

Then, when I had my tubal ligation, they put me out and I awoke to find they'd given me an enema under anesthesia. Stealth enema...it's like a surprse party. Delightful and but not invited.

You big baby!!!! I had it for nine days and then had to go to the hospital in Florida...ya can't tell where they got their degrees or if...I spent five days in the hospital..the first two I knew I was dying..no such luck..they only let me out because we had company coming from Virginia...Oh yeah..hubby had it too..for ONE stinken day..and he was crying for his mommy...you guys slay me..all told it lasted almost five weeks...I lost twenty pounds, but I seem to be finding it again..

Are you looking for more medical advice? Validation? Sympathy? What??? Help us out here? Try some ice packs on your ass and take a bunch of fibreOne. It's tasteless and might help ease the pain of your flaming ass, that I think none of us can handle.

i hate to say it but i've been through this before as well. luckily for me i only had to endure it for one day, and didn't have to go to a doctor. a jar of jalapenos, yeah, that's a pretty good description... XP

Maunie: I have to tell you, you broads gotta stop playing the "well I pushed out a kid" card. It's tiring. We get it, we get it...big kid, little hole (unless you're Pam Anderson or Paris Hilton). On another note, you're correct - I'm a wicked pussy.

Tiggy: Been there, done that. Nothing like vomiting all over your penis while you're on the crapper.

Meghan: Tried it. Cork disintegrated. I want my money back.

Malach: If I only have four days to leave, I think it's time we admitted our love for each other. Thanks in advance.

Everyone else:Well...it's BAAAAACK!! Just when I thought I'd gotten off the crapper, it pulls me back on.

I (temporarily) get the same effect from eating at Popeyes. I love to eat Popeyes fried chicken, but my digestive system has, uh, issues with it, resulting in nausea and sphincter-burning diarrhea that consists primarily of bright orange grease, and everything else I have ever eaten in MY ENTIRE LIFE. Never again. Yeah, right.

Glad you got your poop shoot straightened out. I had food poisoning once and was crapping like every 30 seconds or so it seemed. My husband had to carry me into the waiting room at the hospital but anyway, when the nurse asked if she could get a stool sample my husband laughed! I was not laughing. I understand the flaming bungholio thing.

Hey, I read your Mississippi post. Actually you are not far off about the people. I may live here but I am by no means a native. I am a hick from Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, we have no catchy jumping rope songs to spell our state. :o)~